


Mood Lighting

by SevralShips



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Valentine's Day, also angst, tw incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9980123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevralShips/pseuds/SevralShips
Summary: Mabel Pines has always been a romantic. When she discovers unexpected feelings for Dipper, can it ever measure up to her fantasies of Prince Charming?





	

I was always a romantic, no doubt about that. I developed my taste for romance around the same time I developed a taste for sugar. I was hardly forming full sentences before I was taken with the idea of Prince Charming. Dipper had to play his fair share of knights, and husbands, and suitors in our games growing up. In all fairness, I was hardly the only little girl with romantic aspirations. Most of my friends, just like me, found room for lovey dovey daydreams amid their busy schedules of tea parties and naptimes. Some girls outgrew it, some grew into it, but for me it just _grew._ I got bigger, of course, and my hunger for a great love story got bigger right along with me. It even surpassed my hunger for sugar somewhere around the ninth grade.

It was around this time, it seemed, that boys had their first glimmer of interest in something most of the girls had been sighing about since pre-school. And it was with great delight that I acquired my first Boyfriend. Yes, ma’am, _real_ Boyfriend! A capital B Boyfriend, not a weirdo, not a merman, no funny business. I hadn’t even had to trick Kevin into dating me! Nope, in fact, _he’d_ asked _me_ out! He’d slipped a love note into my locker, a stilted poem about how I was pretty and smelled nice. When I showed Dipper, he had just rolled his eyes and pointed out the spelling errors, but I’d been over the moon.

Until Kevin had stood me up at the Halloween Dance. That was probably the first time that being surrounded by candy did absolutely nothing to cheer me up.

But it was okay! My true love was waiting for me, and one little hurdle wasn’t going to trip me up! I dove into High School dating with a mission. My soulmate was there, right around the corner, slamming his locker, or bending over the water fountain, or waiting in line in the cafeteria. And I was going to find him, even if I had to kiss a lot of frogs to find my prince.

After Kevin, there was Tyler, my first jock. The Rom-Coms were right about that one, though, he was a jerk. And after Tyler, there was James, my first nerd. He really liked to hear himself talk. And after James, there was Kyle, my first edgy kid. I liked him because I thought maybe he was so sad because he was sensitive. Turned out he was sad because he had no personality. And after Kyle, there was Mike (my first _real_ summer romance the summer after freshman year), after Mike, Benny (my first cigarette-smoker), then Carl (my first pot-smoker), and Ian (my first band kid), and Jonah. Jonah was the first one that _I_ broke up with, when I got tired of him trying to stick his hand under my clothes.

It wasn’t really the hand-under-the-clothes thing that bothered me, I’d discovered that I really liked sex stuff the summer before with Mike. It was the way Jonah did it. There was never any atmosphere. We’d be pulled over in his car, which always smelled a little like a locker room, and the radio would be on too loud, playing more commercials than songs and making it impossible to talk. It was too cramped and too dark, and his clumsy hands would just want to push my clothes out of the way and grab. I broke up with him and he didn’t even try to hold onto me. He just said ‘okay’ and drove me home.

Getting out of his car was a relief, the crisp February air a nice change after the grody Eau d’Gym Socks of Jonah’s car. It was a little chilly, and I wasn’t dressed warmly enough, and I walked briskly up the path to the front door. I could tell mom and dad were asleep the second I opened the door. The lights were off in the living room and the kitchen, and the only illumination was from the light on the stairs. I stood there for a moment, leaning my back against the door, looking into the dim living room. _What am I doing?_ I asked myself, allowing myself to feel a little discouraged now that I was alone. All these boys had seemed so special at first. Some of them had bought me flowers and chocolates, some of them had taken me to fancy dinners, or even cooked me dinner themselves. Some of them had worn ties on dates, some of them had lit candles and peeled my clothes off, looking at my skin like they really loved me, insisting in hushed voices that they really loved me. But they didn’t usually get my jokes, and sometimes they told me not to be so weird. Sometimes they got pushy or angry when I wasn’t in the mood to have sex. It was seeming less and less like all it was cracked up to be. _Dipper will be able to help,_ I assured myself, and went upstairs to his room.

The door was open a few inches and I could hear his music, the volume turned low so it wouldn’t wake our parents. It was a band we both liked, not something ham-handed Jonah would ever find on the radio. I rapped my knuckles on the door a couple times in our signature knock, _TAP, taptap, TAP,_ and peeked in. He was at his desk, playing a computer game, with music playing from his phone, “Heya, Mabes,” he said distractedly.

“Howdy,” I said, walking over and sitting on his bed as he paused his game.

“You’re home early,” he said drily, glancing at the time on his phone.

“We broke up,” I said, simply.

“Good,” Dipper replied, only then looking at me. I felt a little over-dressed all of a sudden, in meticulously chosen dress and cardigan and tights and shoes, while Dipper sat in his desk chair in a ratty pair of pajama pants and an unbuttoned stained flannel shirt. It’s not that it mattered between us, but the contrast just struck me once he looked at me. His brow creased in concentration, “It is good, right? Jonah’s a jackass.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “He is a jackass.”

“So, then, why do you look so upset?” he asked.

I shrugged, looking down at the repeating pattern of teensy black Scottie dogs on my skirt, “I just dunno why this keeps happening to me,” I said, “I’m an awesome girlfriend, but it seems like there aren’t any decent boyfriends to be found.”

“Mabel, c’mon,” Dipper scoffed, “You must know that’s bullshit.”

My eyes flashed back to his, trying to find some explanation to quell my anger, “What the heck do you mean? You just said yourself that Jonah’s a jackass!”

“Oh, no, yeah, totally. Jonah is a total asshole,” Dipper assured me, “But so were all of the others. If you want to have a good boyfriend, you like need to find a good _boy_ for starters.”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about!” I cried, slapping my palms against his unmade bed, “You didn’t get to know any of them!”

“I didn’t _have_ to get to know them!” Dipper rolled his eyes, and began counting off his fingers, “Too dumb to spellcheck a love note, jock asshole, know-it-all with nothing in common with you, boring goth kid, thought you were easy pussy--”

“Whoa, I _am not!_ ” I interrupted, jumping to my feet.

“I didn’t say you _were,_ ” Dipper insisted, indicating himself by placing his fingers on his chest, “But that dumbass Mike definitely hung around you ‘cause he thought you were--”

“That’s not true,” I said, feeling the tears prickling my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mabes,” Dipper said, trying to back-track, “I was trying to make you feel better. I guess… I kinda messed that up. I was just trying to say you’re not the problem.”

“Oh, sure,” I said, wiping my eyes impatiently, “ _I’m_ not the problem, the fact that I date _losers_ is the problem!”

“You just could maybe use to be a little more picky,” Dipper suggested casually.

“That’s a great way to call me easy without calling me easy, hotshot,” I snapped. Dipper paled and broke eye contact, “Besides, if I’m not looking everywhere, if I’m not willing to try anyone, I could miss him!”

“Miss who?” Dipper asked, cluelessly.

“My soulmate, you nerd!” I said, exasperatedly, walking over to the door.

“Maybe it’s looking everywhere that’s making you miss him,” Dipper grumbled behind me. I turned back, cocked my head at him needing further explanation, “Maybe,” he shrugged, looking back at his computer screen, “Maybe while you’re doing all this looking around and trying, he could be right under your nose.”

I blinked a couple times, considering what he’d said. His eyes didn’t leave his computer, but he hadn’t unpaused the game. He was just avoiding my eyes. I knew him better than anyone, I wasn’t fooled. His hair, neck, and shoulders were rimmed with the cool bluish light of the computer screen, and I could see the small twitch in his jaw of him grinding his teeth. Willing me to leave, “Well, thanks for cheering me up,” I said sarcastically, “Good night, Dip,”

“Night,” he said curtly, and I shut the door behind me before going into my own room across the hall.

There was nothing I wanted more than to ignore Dipper’s unsolicited advice. I was all ready to put it out of my head and go to sleep, but it’s like an idea was wiggling its way into my noggin, and it wasn’t going to leave me alone until I dealt with. So I plopped down on my bed and looked up at the ceiling. Was I going about this the wrong way? I tried to ignore the anger and revulsion that threatened to flare up in me again and look at what Dipper had said. Was I not being picky enough? I had dated pretty much anyone that had shown any interest, but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with that. There hadn’t seemed to be any harm in it, but I hadn’t considered until tonight that anyone might be under the impression that I was easy. _Am I easy? What does that matter even if I am?_ Well, Dipper seemed to think that I was too distracted by dating everybody to notice my soulmate right under my nose. _Well, if my own_ brother _thinks I’m a slut, then my soulmate probably thinks so too,_ I thought to myself pessimistically, knowing even as I formed the thought that it wasn’t fair to Dipper.

Dipper had seemed convinced that the problem was that I wasn’t dating any guys that were nice enough. But I’d been dating all the nicest guys I could find. Sure, they were flawed, but wasn’t everyone? They all had so many redeeming qualities, too. And even though all these breakups were discouraging, even though Dipper had planted a new worry about what all this dating was doing to my reputation, I wouldn’t undo any of it. I was glad for the opportunity to get to know all those guys. _As flawed as they were, everyone is special._ Dipper was just biased. It was normal for a guy to want the best for his sister, but it was unrealistic. _It’s not like I’m gonna find a guy as nice as Dipper._

I must have fallen asleep at some point thinking about it, because then I was waking up, still in my date clothes, with the Saturday morning sunlight pouring in my window and brightly illuminating my bedroom. I blinked at the brightness, the pink of my walls seeming too vivid this morning. I was disoriented and turned next to me to ask Dipper what was going on. But he wasn’t beside me, only the big fluffy pig body-pillow that I cuddled with every night. I stared at the beady plastic eyes and the velour snout and said out loud to him, “You’re not Dipper.”

The faux pig stared back at me uncomprehendingly as I tried to puzzle out where Dipper had gone. I felt certain that we had gone to bed together. I groped for a memory of what had happened last night. I remembered his signature knock on the door, I remembered him slipping into my bed with me, I remembered how his kisses had been more tender than any I’d ever imagined, how his hands had ignited a fire on my skin--

“ _Oh, God,_ ” I moaned, realizing finally that that had been a dream. That, in fact, I had fallen asleep a bit ticked off at Dipper about our conversation and then had a sex dream about him. _It wasn’t just a sex dream, though,_ I had to admit to myself, _it was a love dream._ I hadn’t spent all these years dreaming about love to not recognize a love dream when it actually showed up. I looked at my door, thinking about Dipper snoring right across the hall. He wasn’t exactly the Prince Charming I’d spent the last 15-odd years expecting, despite how often he’d played the role in our childhood games. He wasn’t particularly suave, or thoughtful, or exotic. He didn’t know how to dress, that was for sure, I wasn’t certain he even knew how to tie a tie. And also he was my twin brother. I groaned again, and swung my legs off the side of the bed, hoping my morning shower would help clear my head.

I left the bathroom light off, letting the daylight from the window fill the room with a soothing diffused light. I turned on the water, gratefully shedding my date clothes from the night before as I waited for the water to heat up. Just losing those clothes made me feel immensely better, like I was molting the failure of my and Jonah’s relationship. I let the clothes land unceremoniously on the floor and glanced thoughtfully at my reflection in the mirror. I tried to imagine what other people saw when they looked at me. _Do guys really look and me and just think that they could get laid?_ I didn’t want to be with anyone who saw me that way. _Dipper doesn’t see you that way._ I frowned at myself, _of course he doesn’t expect me to fuck him, he’s my brother._

I tested the water with my hand and stepped into the steam and the heat. I put my head under the stream of the showerhead and closed my eyes, relishing the soothing feeling of the water on my scalp and running through my hair. But nearly the moment I shut my eyes, there was Dipper in my mind’s eye, standing in the shower with me. Wet bangs hanging into his eyes, water dripping off his nose as he gave me a playful smile, the mischievious one that usually precipitated tickling. But when his hands found my sides, they didn’t tickle, but just caressed my skin gently, wrapping around my waist and pulling me into a hug. I imagined how it would feel to wrap my arms around his skinny waist, my hands trailing up and down his back, my cheek laid on his chest. Achingly, I wrapped my arms around myself. Dipper was only a few yards away, really, but he’d never felt so far from me. How could I go on just being his sister, now that I knew he was the true love I’d been looking for all this time?

Suddenly, the shower wasn’t all too comforting and I washed myself quickly and shut the water off. I stood there for a moment in the steamy little cubicle of the shower, adjusting to the quiet without the water thrumming against the curtain and tile. I sighed, feeling the little drops of water rolling down my legs. I tried to focus on the feeling and the silence, to draw my attention away from this disturbing new discovery. I focused on the sound of the shower curtain rings sliding along the curtain rod, the feeling of the bathmat soft and dry under my feet, the way goosebumps rose on my damp skin, and my towel wicked the moisture away. I tied it around my chest and left the bathroom, only to find my path obstructed by a clearly just-woken Dipper. His hair was mussed from sleeping, completely flat on the left side of his head where it had pressed against the pillow. He was blinking groggily, his brown eyes slowly adjusting to my presence right in front of him. _If he’d gone to open that door without knocking a second sooner, I’d have been standing in front of him in my birthday suit,_ I thought. As if hearing the same thought, he blushed a little. I averted my eyes, staring at his chest. He had ditched the flannel shirt and wore only the pajama pants I’d seen him in the night before. My hands itched to touch his skin, see if it felt the way that it had in my thoughts.

“Mabel,” Dipper said, his voice a little lispy from sleepiness, his tone apologetic, “I’m--” My lips crashed into his before he could finish his sentence. _He has morning breath,_ I noted at once, but it was drowned out completely by the chorus of Mabels rejoicing and scolding me in my head. His lips were softer than I’d ever imagined they might be, softer than any of my misguided boyfriends, and he made the softest _mmph!_ of surprise against me. It had nothing to do with the specific feeling of his kiss, though, it was the feeling of _him_. It was there. That inexplicably moving intense lightning-bolt _thing_ that I’d heard about and yearned for since my mom still read me bedtime stories. The rejoicing half of me was rejoicing about this, this feeling of utter, sublime rightness, of closeness and completeness. The scolding half of me was screaming _he’s your brother_ louder and louder, approaching deafening by the second. And then Dipper’s lips opened, inviting more, welcoming more, even beseeching. With that invitation, my tongue cautiously sought his as his hands found my waist, gripping me tentatively through my towel. His tongue swept along mine and I grew bolder, kissing him harder, desperate for _more_ of this feeling of utter correctness. Dipper gave another soft sound against me, and this time I heard a sound rise out of myself, a throaty whimper I was positive I’d never made before.

As Dipper’s hands tightened on my waist, i took a couple steps back, never allowing our lips to part, reaching behind him to shut the door. However, to my dismay, the sound of the door clicking shut seemed to wake him from the blissful daze of our kisses. He pulled back suddenly and I opened my eyes to find him blinking at me, his eyes now completely alert. I could see the panic brewing in them, it was a look I knew well. He let go of me, as though he’d been burned and took a step back, “Mabes… Mabes, I… it… what…”

“I’m sorry, Dipper,” I lied. In truth, the only thing I felt sorry about at the moment was that the kiss had ended, not that it had begun, “I probably shouldn’t have done that,”

He shook his head uncertainly, “Why...why _did_ you do that?”

“I wanted to,” I said honestly, without thinking about whether that was an acceptable answer.

“You...wanted to…?”

“I’m sorry,” I lied again, although the panic was beginning to settle on my shoulders too, “I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted to, you’re my brother, I wasn’t thinking--”

“I wanted to,” Dipper said quietly, lifting his eyes off the bathroom floor and meeting my gaze again. That silenced me. I looked back at him dumbfounded, “I’ve wanted to for a long time. I’m sorry…”

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, reaching out and taking his hands in mine. They were shaking slightly.

“This isn’t something I’m supposed to want,” Dipper said firmly, and my heart twinged, certain that he’d been telling himself for ages, “You’re my sister, and I love you.” My heart leapt slightly at the words, even though we’d said them to each other countless times over the years.

“I’m beginning to think I love you, too,” I said, hoping he’d hear the new significance in my tone. As I said it, I felt the panic sinking its claws into me properly and my breath started coming harder, “I...I need to sit down,” I gasped.

Dipper led me to sit on the closed toilet seat, squeezing my hands reassuringly, “It’s okay, just...just breathe. You’re just hyperventilating a little. It’s a...uh, common side effect of developing romantic feelings for your sibling, trust me,” I don’t know how much time passed that way, holding onto his hands for dear life as I managed to get my breathing back under control. When I felt like I could, I met his eyes again. And there it was, that lightning bolt rightness all the love songs talked about. His brow was creased with concern, and the second my eyes met his he gave me a tiny crooked smile and squeezed my hands a little tighter. I squeezed back. He licked his lips nervously, “Do you mean it?”

I nodded, “Yeah, although I only just figured it out recently.”

“How recently?”

“Um,” I felt my cheeks getting hot, “This morning,”

“Jesus, Mabes!” Dipper exclaimed. He seemed embarrassed, anxious, torn, “You need to think about this! We can’t dive into this blind. Oh my god--”

“No, Dip,” I released his hand, stroking his messy hair, “I don’t need to think about it. I know what I want.” He looked at me uncertainly, “Do...do you really? Do you really...feel it, too?”

He nodded rapidly, “Yes,” he said instantly, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a little smirk, “Definitely. Absolutely.”

I gave a snort, and then cocked my head at him, “When did you figure it out?”

His smirk wilted in shyness, “Umm...over… over a year ago.”

“Wow,” my eyes widened, “I always knew you had better self-restraint than me but holy moley,”

“Okay, Mabes, well it sounds like it took you like two hours to give in and kiss me,” Dipper said, “That’s a pretty low bar as self-restraint goes.”

I shrugged, “Fair enough,” I bit my lip, “Sooo… can I kiss you again?”

Dipper blushed furiously and stammered out, “Uh, yes… um, of course… but I um, can I maybe pee first?”

I laughed and hopped up to my feet, gesturing to the toilet with a flourish, “Your throne awaits, Sire,” I teased, “I’mma go get dressed,” Dipper nodded, seeming both relieved and disappointed by my choice. I shut the door behind me and scurried to my room. The scolding Mabels in my head were piping down and I bounced around my room in disbelieving triumph. Once the victory dance was out of the way, I dropped my towel and opened my dresser drawers, getting dressed distractedly. It was weird. I’d always been worried about how I dressed for guys that I liked. My outfit for my date the previous night with Jonah, for instance, which was lying still on the bathroom floor, had been carefully selected after half hour of trying on different outfits. But this was Dipper. He’d seen me in every kind of dress; diapers, pajamas, formal dresses, homemade sweaters. He’d seen me sick in bed, he’d seen me throw up from car sickness, he’d seen me cry over everything from coffee commercials to funerals. _He probably doesn’t even notice my outfit choices,_ I noted, _and even if he notices, he doesn’t care._ I would have thought I’d find that discouraging somehow, but it was actually immensely liberating. I pulled on a pair of sequin-lined purple leggings and a big blue tee shirt, a souvenir from the previous year’s school production of ‘ _My Fair Lady’_ , and wrapped my discarded towel around my hair. _This is definitely the most comfortable outfit I’ve ever worn for a date,_ I thought before asking myself whether or not kissing my brother in my bedroom counted as a date.

Before I could consider it much further, Dipper was at my door. _TAP taptap TAP_ , “You may enter!” I called and he opened the door.

He had wet and combed his hair, which had only helped a little bit. He had also stopped by his room and pulled on a wrinkled tee shirt. He smiled at me nervously before stepping over the threshold and shutting the door, “Hey,” he said, as if we hadn’t just tongue-punched each other in the bathroom.

“C’mere, nerd,” I said, sitting down on the bed and patting the mattress beside me. He crossed the room and sat beside me, “Now’s the part where you kiss me.”

“In a sec, Mabes,” Dipper said, chewing his lip, “I really feel like we should talk about this more. I don’t want you to rush into something this weird without seriously considering the pros and cons.”

“I know you swear by pro-con lists, but they’ve really never been my style,” he rolled his eyes, “Okay, okay. I get what you’re saying. But Dipstick, if I’m not mistaken, you love me like more than a sister, and I love you like more than a brother. As incest affairs go, this has gotta be pretty straightforward.” He cringed at the word ‘incest’, and I realized I maybe ought to be a bit more delicate, “You’ve really been having a hard time with this junk, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I have,” he took my hand in both of his, “I’m sorry for being a dweeb. To be honest, I couldn’t be happier,” He blushed, “I kinda am just trying to wrap my head around this,”

“I’m happy, too,” I said, softly, and without releasing my hands, Dipper leaned forward and kissed me. All thoughts about talking it over, waiting, having some chill just evaporated, and I let myself melt entirely into his kisses, and into the complete safety I had always felt in his presence.

The next few days were a blur. Every day, I seemed to discover new depths to my love for Dipper. And he...well, now that the dam had broken, he was swept up in the current of a deluge. It was strange, though. It wasn’t the way that I’d ever imagined finding my soulmate would be. Because he was still Dipper. He still stayed up way later than me, playing video games, planning DD&D campaigns, researching cryptids and alien sightings. He still had to be reminded that once dirty clothes went in the hamper, they shouldn’t be worn again until they’d been washed. He was still my dorky, low maintenance dweeb of a brother. I’d spent all these years watching rom-coms and reading romance novels and listening to love songs, inventing this guy in my head. The perfect man, who’d have so-and-so’s jaw, and whats-his-name’s ass, and how he’d dress, and how he’d be a poet and play guitar and any number of things. The strange thing was that I wasn’t sad to say adios to that fantasy, not really. It was just taking some getting used to that all the little quirks I’d gotten used to about my best friend were actually quirks of my true love all this time.

So it was weird for me when I realized that Valentine’s Day was only a day away. I’d only ever experienced one Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend, James the nerd the previous year. And I hadn’t so much experienced Valentine’s Day as experienced him talking about how stupid mainstream traditions surrounding it were and how little it had to do with the likely-apocryphal martyrdom of Saint Valentine. Dipper wasn’t going to do that, but to be honest, I had no idea what he would do. _Be real, Mabel-girl,_ I told myself, _Dipper probably doesn’t even know that Valentine’s Day is February 14th._ I told myself not to get my hopes up. But then while we were cleaning up from dinner on the 13th, dad told us how he was taking mom out for a nice dinner the following day and that we’d have the house to ourselves until late. I gave Dipper a sidelong glance, but he didn’t seem to hear what was being discussed. I tried in vain to push my hopes down and out of sight.

Valentine’s Day arrived and I pulled on a pink dress covered in red hearts. Whether the bro-friend did anything special today or not, it was my duty as Mabel to dress for the occasion. I maybe took it a little further than necessary, piling on every heart-themed accessory I could find. Dipper raised an eyebrow at my outfit at breakfast, but said nothing about it. School passed by slowly but without incident. Normally, there was an least one or two classes where something festive happened. Some silly busy-work that loosely aligned with a holiday, or an exchange of relevant candy, or something. But this year, nada. Dipper and I didn’t have any of the same classes since he was a bookworm over-achiever in all AP and Honors classes. I was in a sour mood by the time we got on the bus, and although I gladly held hands with him beneath our backpacks, I hardly said a word to him.

He must have picked up on my sourpuss-ery because he gave me a wide berth once we got home. Normally we were eager to sneak kisses and pets whenever our parents were out of the room, but today he left me alone and I sat in the living room doing homework, while he sat at his computer upstairs doing dorky Dipper stuff of some kind. With every minute that passed without an acknowledgement from him that the day was special in any way, the worse my mood got. Around 6, mom and dad announced that they were off to their romantic dinner and reminded us of all the rules about being home alone that we already knew well, and were on their way. Shortly after they left, Dipper slinked down the stairs, with a posture not unlike a dog with its tail between its legs. He went into the kitchen and I buried my nose deeper in my history textbook, unable to make out a word in front of me. I listened to him rummaging around in the kitchen, feeling deeply irritated just by his presence and the fact that he had _the nerve_ to have some business in the kitchen.

I was simmering so deep in my own annoyance that I didn’t notice him coming into the living room until an unexpected smell caught my attention. It was sort of grassy and vegetal, and really familiar. I looked up from my book to see Dipper standing bashfully beside me, with a lit candle in his hand. It was a citronella candle, the kind in a little aluminum pail. Mom normally kept those seasonal things in the back of the cupboard during the cooler months. I blinked at him, wondering why in the world he’d lit a citronella candle indoors in February, “It was the only candle I could find,” he admitted, answering my unspoken question, “It’s supposed to be, like, um…” he reached over and flipped off the lamp beside me, so the room was washed only in the flickering glow of the candle, “ _Mood lighting,_ ” he said, as if that was a term in some foreign language and he wasn’t sure he was pronouncing it correctly.

“Dipper?” I said, my annoyance giving way to confusion.

“Oh jeez,” he put the citronella candle down on the coffee table and sat down next to me on the couch, “I am so bad at this. I’m trying to be, like, romantic?”

I gave a small laugh, despite myself and he put his face in his hands, “Candles are nice,” I reassured him.

“Thanks, Mabes, but you don’t have to spare my feelings,” he said, “I know I suck at this. This kind of,” he pointed to the candle, “Romance stuff? Valentine’s Day? You know it’s not my forte,”

“I know,” I conceded, “That’s okay,”

“No, but I love you,” he said, his tone distressed, “And you _love_ this stuff. You deserve to be swept off your feet and stuff,”

“Let’s walk before we run, shall we, Dipdot?” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked at me and I had to admit the firelight was breathtaking in his eyes, “The candle is a good start.”

He looked unsure, “But Mabel--”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dip,” I said before he could protest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mabel,” Dipper replied, a small smile just beginning to curl his lips. And all at once, it struck me how stupid I was being. What could possibly be more romantic than just being with him? The candlelight was a nice touch, sure, but what was really beautiful was being close to him. The feel of his shoulder under my hand, the familiar smell of him reminding me this was home, the way his eyes glowed with a vulnerable willingness to _try._ The unsure smile on his lips spread when I busted into a grin. I dropped my history book on the floor and threw my arms around his neck, knocking him back so he laid against the armrest of the couch, with me half on top of him, squeezing him close. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around my waist, “I love you,” he said, his voice sincere and soft.

“Well that’s all I wanted for Valentine’s Day anyhow,” I assured him, realizing as I said it how silly it had been to worry about anything else, “I love you too,” I told him, my voice muffled against his collarbone. This might not be the storybook great love I’d thought I wanted, but it was something far better. It was mine, and it was _real_. Dipper loosened his grip on me and scooted down a little and guided his lips to mine. _That right there, that’s it,_ I realized, losing myself in the sweetness of true love’s kiss, _that’s all I could ever want._

 


End file.
